


Hot Lunch

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time their lunch break rolls around, Jensen has Misha in quite a state.  Misha's just glad he's a nice enough guy to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> I've been [writing every day](http://spnficlets.tumblr.com) since January 1st, but most of them have been too short and/or too bad to bother with posting here. I'm really pleased with the way this one came out, though. :-)

Misha’s response is near-Pavlovian at this point; Jensen’s soft, raspy voice coming from just over his shoulder sends his heart hammering and pulls his breath up short like a warm fist wrapped around his chest.  The honey soft chuckle that follows when Misha doesn’t manage to stop his indrawn breath from being audible is proof that it’s not accidental.  The worst part is; it doesn’t matter  _what_  Jensen says.   
  
It only matters that he’s suddenly there when he wasn’t half a second ago and Misha is just as suddenly acutely aware of the way his cock is starting to get a little too interested in the timbre of Jensen’s voice for a work-type environment.  He’ll catch up to whatever Jensen’s saying soon enough, but until then it’s just the thundering of his own blood racing through his ears and the fact that his boxers are a little tighter than is really comfortable.  
  
"So, they said five minutes ‘til we can go." Jensen says, hopefully for the first time in this conversation, but probably not judging by his exaggeratedly patient tone. "Lunch in my trailer or yours, Mish?"  
  
He’s so close now that his breath tickles the fine hairs on the back of Misha’s neck with each word and the smell of sweat and dirt and something that is uniquely, tangibly  _Jensen_  fills his nostrils.  Misha takes another breath, deep and slow as he shifts from one foot to the other, trying to buy himself a second to steady his voice.  
  
"Um." Misha says, his voice managing to betray him by cracking on the single syllable; then, "Uh..  mine."  He swallows hard and asks, nonchalantly he hopes, "What do you want for lunch?"  
  
Jensen leans closer still as a PA scurries by, decidedly  _not_  looking at the actors.  Misha closes his eyes, trying to force away the urge to squirm as his stomach does a delicious little flip when Jensen’s lips brush his ear.  The wait for an answer is excruciating with Misha’s knowledge that it’s as likely to be “a burger” as it is to be “a blowjob” or anything  _else_  more fun than, well, a burger.  
  
Jensen waits until the PA is out of earshot before he whispers, whiskey dark and soft, soft, soft, “Your ass in the air.”  
  
The sound that catches in Misha’s throat could most accurately be called a whimper, though he’d never admit to it.  Instead, he swallows his heart from where it’s lodged itself unhelpfully in the vicinity of his adam’s apple, gives a slow nod, and answers hoarsely: “On second thought, your trailer’s closer.”

He manages to keep it together until he hears the magic words that mark the beginning of their lunch break.  The second they're spoken he makes his excuses for not joining a group lunch before focusing every bit of his attention on walking away normally.  He does a good job, he thinks, until he hears the scuff of Jensen's boots a step behind.

Jensen's palm comes to rest in the small of Misha's back as soon as they're away from prying eyes and any hope of a normal gait is lost when the heat starts to bleed through his clothes.  The walk to Jensen's trailer is mercifully short and they're barely inside before Jensen's hands are all over him.

The first kisses are the sweetest, lips pressed over and over as their breath comes quicker and soft gasps and groans fill the space between kisses.  After one costume mishap, they've made a habit of undressing before they get too far; a pain in the ass habit, but necessary if they're to keep any semblance of _secret_ in their relationship.  Misha's hands tremble as he pushes Jensen's jacket and overshirt off his shoulders and tugs them down.

Jensen's lips are on Misha's neck, wet kisses trailing down to his collarbone as Jensen makes quick work of his coat and shirt before stripping out of his own t-shirt.  Shoes already kicked away, they go for one another's belts; buttons and zippers close behind.  Copious practice with lunchtime quickies has honed the undressing process to a science.

"Not enough time," Jensen grouses in a low rasp, his hands firmly on Misha's hips as he begins to push him backward toward the couch.  Misha reaches up and curls his fingers around the back of Jensen's neck to pull him in for another kiss, lips crushed together as he teases at the tip of Jensen's tongue with his own.

" _Never_ enough time," Misha commiserates when he breaks away.  He takes careful steps backward; knowing the couch is near.  When he feels it against his calf, he lets their momentum carry him down, pulling Jensen along as he starts to lean back.  Their legs tangle, bare thighs pressed together as their hipbones connect almost painfully; though the press of Jensen's leaking cock alongside his own is more than pleasant. 

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad, Mish," Jensen growls as he shifts position until his thigh is between Misha's, grinding mercilessly against his cock.  His voice is a breathy purr when he continues,  "I wanna see you wiggling your ass for me just like you always do, wanna feel you clamped around my dick so hard it feels like you're killing me while you beg for more."

"Yeah," Misha whimpers, giving up any hope of eloquence in the face of Jensen's unabashed lust.  He arches upward, rolling his hips to drag his cock against Jensen's precome-slick skin, desperate for friction.  The thought that hits him is sudden, twisting his belly with white hot pleasure as he groans it against Jensen's neck: "Tonguefuck me instead."

The sound that reverberates through Jensen's chest is so guttural and sharp it steals Misha's breath; before he knows what hit him, he's on his knees on the thickly carpeted floor of the trailer with his face pushed into its prickly roughness.  The sting of Jensen's palm against his left ass cheek comes as a shock; the sting of the same on the right side is half-expected.  

Misha's fingers curl into the carpet in anticipation when Jensen spreads his cheeks until he can't help squirming at the feel of cool air teasing heated flesh, followed closely by pressure from the pad of Jensen's thumb.  Jensen's fingers dig in, kneading the tensed muscles of Misha's ass as he drops kisses just above the press of his thumb until Misha's breath is coming in ragged gasps and a violent shiver runs down his spine.

"C'mon, Jay.  Quit teasing," he whines, reaching back with one hand to try to grab Jensen's head.  Precome leaks down his thigh as his cock twitches with each rhythmic press and release of Jensen's thumb. 

"So impatient," Jensen murmurs, his voice dropping with each syllable.  Misha can take at least a little comfort in the strangled quality of the little laugh that follows, but he doesn't have time to gloat before Jensen's thumb is gone and the stiff tip of his tongue is trailing a circle around his hole.

"Oh, _god_.  Ohgodohgodohgod," Misha breathes as he turns his head to press his forehead into the carpet, his toes curling with pleasure when Jensen gives up on teasing and starts to work at the tight clench of his muscles with an insistent tongue.  When he pauses to suck obscenely loudly, lips sealed around sensitive skin and nails dragging down the back of Misha's thighs and back up again, all Misha can manage is garbled half-words of encouragement.

He coils reflexively, ass pushed up and back, thighs spread wide; begging with the angle of his body for more and Jensen obliges.  With one hand squeezing Misha's ass cheek so hard it takes his breath away, Jensen surges forward to lick.  His tongue presses flat, a rough drag over and over that makes Misha squeak praise and reach back to grab his other cheek and help spread himself.

Jensen rewards him with a pleased growl and fingers wrapped around his ball sac, squeezing and tugging gently.  He starts to fuck into Misha's ass in earnest, tongue stiff and moving quickly as he bobs his head up and down.  Each push forward drags his short beard exquisitely over exposed flesh and Misha's already labored breathing stops completely.

He rocks backward, knees on fire from the dig of the carpet with every shift of his hips, sweat prickling across his shoulders and down his spine as he moans breathlessly, "Yeah.. _fuck_.. don't stop.. so good, so _good_.."

Jensen's hand slides forward in response, releasing Misha's balls and wrapping around his cock instead.  The angle is awkward as he strokes downward, his tongue moving at a frenzied pace as it slips into Misha's ass.  Precome flies up Misha's stomach and drips down his leg with the inelegant jerking and it feels all too suddenly like there's a wildfire raging in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh..  oh, god, c'mon, harder.. _please,_ " he chokes, scrabbling uselessly at the carpet with both hands.  His back arches downward, shoulders grinding into the carpet when he turns his head to pant and groan as his stomach muscles tense painfully.  Jensen pushes roughly forward, his tongue as far as he can get it inside the tight clench of Misha's hole and wriggling as he concentrates the pressure of his fingers around the head of Misha's cock and twists.

Misha bites his lips together savagely to muffle his cry of pleasure when the sweet relief of orgasm rolls through him like a derailed freight train.  He rocks backward, fucking himself on Jensen's tongue as his cock pulses thick come through Jensen's fingers that dribbles down his thigh and burns his rug-burned knee.  He sucks a dizzying hard breath, body contracting rhythmically from end to end, his mind as fuzzy gray as his vision.

Jensen's frantic tonguefucking slows until he's once more licking flat and soft over the still quivering clench of muscle, practiced fingertips stroking Misha's softening cock with smeared come until Misha has to reach - with great effort - to push away the painfully pleasurable touch.  Jensen pulls away, his breath coming in gasps to match Misha's, warm and wet on sensitive skin.  

He presses a final, gentle kiss to Misha's puckered hole before grabbing his hips equally gently and pushing him over on his side.  Misha is still struggling to catch his breath and form a coherent thought in the fuzzy warm afterglow when Jensen disappears.  He comes back a moment later with a wet cloth and refuses Misha's clumsy attempts to help him clean up the sticky mess on the carpet.

"You should probably take a shower," Jensen says when he sits back to kneel.  Misha blinks slowly and looks up to see him grinning like a cat who's just finished a particularly tasty canary.  His voice is a silky murmur when he adds, "You _reek_ of sex for some reason."

"Mmhmm," Misha agrees, nodding and rolling over onto his back to sprawl out bonelessly.  He's barely closed his eyes when Jensen descends to kiss his shoulder, then his neck.  Jensen's fingers are warm and light when they press against the opposite side of Misha's neck, pulling him into the chaste kisses.

"I'm serious," Jensen says with a pleased laugh, nuzzling against Misha's stubbly cheek.

"What about you?"  Misha asks, trying to muster up some measure of guilt for enjoying a mind-bending orgasm and leaving Jensen high and dry.  He turns his head to steal a kiss, tasting his own earthy musk on Jensen's lips.  The kiss is over much too soon when Jensen pulls himself away.

"I'll get mine later," he answers, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth that makes Misha's belly twist dirty hot all over again.


End file.
